Many Conversations About One Thing
by GlobHerman
Summary: "Do we have to do this again?" The voice pauses, and an annoyed sigh fills the silence. "Wowser, you're so stupid sometimes. A lot of the time, really. I'd say thank god I'm not you, but…"
1. Night One

_i am the voice inside your head_  
 _and i control you_

 _-mr. self destruct, nine inch nails_

* * *

"So, has the ungrateful little blue-haired bitch said 'thank you' yet?"

The voice comes from the pitch darkness in front of her, and not recognizing where she is or what's currently going on, Max blinks a few times before replying, "Who?"

"Uh, Chloe? Duh. How many other blue-haired bitches do we know?"

"No. No, uh," Max rubs at her eyes, trying to make everything less dark. "Who are you?"

"Jesus fuck. Do we have to do this _again_?" The voice pauses, and an annoyed sigh fills the silence. " _Wowser_ , you're so stupid sometimes." It's the usage of her own ridiculous vernacular that clues Max in, and the room suddenly becomes dimly illuminated. "A lot of the time, really. I'd say thank god I'm not you, but…"

"Shit," Max groans as the blurry figure sitting on the ground in front of her turns into a full HD version of AlterMax. "Why are you…"

"Oh, I'm sorry," AlterMax says with an insincere smile. "Did you actually think I was gonna leave? Nah," She leans forward, propping her chin in her hands. "It's alright here. Better than the reality you fucked over for me, at least. Thanks, by the way."

"I still haven't really figured- you're me. Like, me, me? Or… a different me? A different me, right? There's… more than one me. I think. Because in the diner. Y-you… was that you? Or are you another… how many? It's… I've always been the same me when I've time jumped, but afterwards…"

"Holy shit, do I need to spell it out for you? Fine." AlterMax snaps her fingers and suddenly there's a glow coming from above her. Max squints to focus on it. A bunch of words are lit up like a neon sign.

 _[you fucked up the lives of infinite Maxes]_

AlterMax claps twice, in quick succession.

 _[…including your own, btw]_

 _[dumbass.]_

Realizing for the first time that she's been half laying down on the blankness this entire time, Max pushes herself up to sit on the blank floor. "That's, well… that's not really all that definitive." AlterMax rolls her eyes. "So… you- you _are_ one of the… other me's?"

AlterMax flashes a smile again. "Wouldn't you just like to know."

"I- I'd… y-yeah, actually."

"Ugh. Rhetorical, dumbshit. Like I care what you want. Clap-off." AlterMax double claps again, and the glowing words vanish.

Max rubs at her eyes again. "Wait," she mumbles. "I haven't rewound since… have I? I haven't. How did I get- what even is here?"

AlterMax sighs in annoyance again, and shifts her weight to rest her chin in only one hand. "Sleepy-time, Max. Dreams. Have you heard of them?"

"I've heard of nightmares."

"Whatever. Po-tay-to, po-tah-to, to-may-to, to-mah-to, let's call the whole thing _whatever the fuck you want_. Anyway, how about I bring you up to speed so you can stop asking me stupid fucking questions?" AlterMax shoots at Max with a finger gun. "Because you obviously can't even remember deciding to sleep in Blue's truck. You're a cheapskate, y'know? You couldn't even fork out a few bucks to stay in a shitty motel?" She clicks her tongue disapprovingly. "That's just not the way to impress a girl, is it?"

"What? I'm not trying… I don't need to-"

"Ah," AlterMax cuts in. "Actually, you couldn't, could you? You sorta left all your stuff behind. In the rubble that you… caused… and then just… casually drove through." She lifts her head from her hand and dismissively shakes it. "Now that's just bad planning."

" _Planning_?" Max pushes up off the ground in one swift movement and stands, yelling down at AlterMax. "You think I _planned_ any of this? _Wanted_ this?"

Unfazed, AlterMax looks up. "Well… you didn't _really_ hesitate much before tearing that picture and getting the hell out of dodge, did you?"

"B-but. That's not fair. I didn't know that was gonna… that's different. It's not-"

"Something that you want to be quizzed on? What," AlterMax asks as she stands up. "No _Morality 101_ with Maxine Caulfield?" She shoves her hands into her pockets and shrugs. "Though with you as the prof, it would probably be a shitty class, huh? First assignment: Successfully manipulate at least one 'friend' using no more than four sentences. Reduced marks for every rewind."

Max takes a deep breath, and her eyes narrow. "I _didn't_ —wait. N-no, you don't get to… We. _Us_. You can't claim to be me and then call only me out on things."

"Oh, you simple creature. I never said that _I_ haven't done or will do some of the things _you've_ done. You," she points a finger at Max. "You actually did some of those things on my behalf." Max visibly tenses, and AlterMax holds her hands up as if surrendering. "Hey, no grudges though. It's, heh, it's all in the past, isn't it? But unlike you, I'm not in denial about how shitty we are. See? _We_."

"I'm not-"

"Oh, my bad. Sure, you're not a piece of shit. _Of course_ you're not. You're a qualified everyday hero, right? Which actually brings me back to my question. Have you gotten a 'thank you' yet?"

"There's _nothing_ to thank me for!" Max's voice starts to rise again. "I fucking _destroyed_ Arcadia! Wh-what thanks," The loud outburst dies down as quickly as it grew, and Max starts tripping on her words again. "What thanks d-do I deserve? Who's gonna- who's gonna th-thank me for this?"

A scoff comes from AlterMax. "You know who would. Eh, should. Like, how about 'thanks for fucking with time and space to save my ungrateful ass, and my ungrateful ass alone'?" She stops and taps at her chin, like she's contemplating something. "Hm, I guess you _could_ cross out the ungrateful bit if she ever does, y'know, say it."

Max forces out another heavy breath. "Why are you doing this? You just- you were just telling me what I've been doing. Don't you… you know already. You know, s-so why are you doing this?"

"God, this is just _too_ good." AlterMax covers her mouth with a hand, smothering a giggle. "Look at you, all whimpering and uncomfortable and questioning yourself. That's why I'm doing this. To make you like this. Obviously.

"So then, how about we take a moment to appreciate it all? First off, you've decided to take _my_ fucking word about this being a drea- sorry, nightmare. You're so fried you don't even question this kind of fucked up shit anymore. Then you try to convince me that you aren't a piece of shit by, what? Admitting that yeah, you did destroy an entire fucking town to save your precious little punk. Like, are you listening to yourself? That's a pretty shitty thing to do, don't you think? Even if you didn't _plan_ to do it.

"Now here you are telling me what I should know, and I'm getting a feeling that what you're really just trying to do is avoid the question, Max _._ _So._ Has or has not the bitch said 'thank you'?"

Doing her best to take even breaths, Max closes her eyes.

"G-go," she shakily starts. "Go…" she tries again. Third time's the charm as she finally spits out, " _Go to hell._ "

AlterMax cocks her head and smirks.

"Oh Maxine, I'm sure we will."

At that, Max goes completely silent. Completely still. A beat passes, and she's swinging a fist out.

But when the punch lands, she staggers back just as AlterMax does. Like a mirror image.

The only noticeable difference is the small trail of blood that's dribbling from their noses. Hers is dripping straight down her chin, while AlterMax's is taking a detour over a vicious grin.

"Hah. _Hah._ " AlterMax starts laughing a little too hard as she rubs at the edge of her nostril. When her laughing slows down, she's still wearing a bloodied grin as she chuckles, "Stop hitting yourself, dumbass."

Max is about to ignore the childish advice when all of a sudden she finds herself back in Chloe's truck, coughing out a bit of accumulated blood from a real life nosebleed. She wipes at it as quickly as she can, hoping she can clear it up before Chloe wakes.

It's not really an urgent situation she finds, because Chloe is still softly snoring. Not wanting to go back to sleep, lest she be… attacked by AlterMax again, Max quietly climbs out of the truck to sit on the hood. As she leans back against the windshield to stare up at the sky, she realizes that she feels just as tired as she did before she fell asleep.

And she'd _swear_ she heard her own voice sing-song out "see you tomorrow" while she was busy sputtering blood.

* * *

 _i am denial, guilt, and fear  
and i control you  
_

* * *

new fandom, new people i have to tell that i have a weird music obsession and it ain't a globherman fic if it don't got music attached to it. however, mr. self destruct is going to be _the_ song, as it encompasses the overall theme. so no 8tracks playlist will come of this.

Max's little conversation with herself in her whatever-that-was in ep 5 hit me where it hurt, because I used to do just that. I have pages of conversations with myself that I wrote down using different colours, different fonts. I went back and browsed afterwards, and some of it was pretty fucked up. A little scary, even.

And from that, grew this. (there even are/will be a few lines that were, er, past me talking to past me.) Because I get it, and because I don't think that convo would be a one and done after everything that Max has been through.

Um, so Pricefield at heart, but Chloe isn't really going to have much of a speaking part, just a heads up on that.

If you want more rambling author notes, go to AO3. I hate how it messes with the word count on here, but I have a little more to ramble about.


	2. Night Two

When Max once again finds herself in near darkness, she's far less confused than the night before. She didn't exactly expect this but, as AlterMax so delicately pointed out, weird shit was starting to faze her less and less as the days went by.

So without a second thought, she opens the door that's inexplicably in front of her. Stepping through to the other side, she finds herself in pretty much the exact same room she just came from. There's a bare lightbulb hanging from the ceiling, however. And a chair a few feet away.

In said chair is AlterMax, who smirks and slaps her knees before greeting Max. "Well, look who's finally here."

"And oh so thrilled about it," Max mumbles to herself as she turns to go back through the door behind her. Unfortunately, turning the handle doesn't accomplish much other than causing it to drop from the door. "Fuck."

"Aw, that's cute." Sighing, Max turns back around to face AlterMax. "You trying to walk out on your dream."

"Yup. _My_ dream. Which I should, like, have control over, right? 'Cause I kinda want to just… do a different dream."

" _What?_ " AlterMax throws her hands up in faux surprise. "You can do that lucid dreaming shit? When'd you learn that? Am I gonna learn it?"

"Jeez," Max groans, muffled by the palm covering her face. "I'm really hoping that you aren't me. Um," she points at herself. "This me. Because all you do is alternate between being super embarrassing and hella horrible."

"Man, are you still insisting on finding an explanation for me?" Max shoots a "duh" look at AlterMax. "If we must talk that through," AlterMax sighs as she stands up and picks up her chair. Which ends up staying exactly as it is, as she pulls a duplicate right out of it. "At least sit down."

Max stares at the chair while AlterMax settles back down in the original. She pokes at it tentatively before asking herself, "Am I really going to spend the rest of my life in a David Lynch fever-dream?"

"Oh come now, you know better than that, Max." AlterMax leans back in her seat, ticking off each point she makes on her fingers. "It's only at night," tick "and mad respect to Mr. Lynch, but," tick "they're _your_ dreams, idiot. And," tick "we aren't sick, so you aren't really all that fevery… unless you've been rewinding?"

Sitting down, Max asks, "Rewinding… have I been rewinding?" She doesn't stutter, and it's much more of an actual statement than a question. Crossing her arms, she makes steady eye contact with AlterMax. "Yeah or nah?"

"How should I know?" AlterMax replies, shrugging.

She's only just sat down, and already Max is wanting to, well, start hitting herself again.

"That was a pretty weak attempt. You keep that up and this little game of _Guess Who_ just isn't going to work. Besides, all twenty four tabs have _our_ face on them, so you might as well give it up already."

"But-"

"Alright, alright. Tell me your theories and ask me your questions," AlterMax says dramatically. "Let's, heh, rewind back to the start."

Max's nose scrunches up. "Ew."

"What, you're shy all of a sudden?"

"No, you just… Coldplay? For real?"

"Jesus Christ. You're getting right to the important questions." AlterMax rolls her eyes. "I'll point out the fact that you recognized it, so…"

Max huffs, and mumbles under her breath, "Fine."

"Exactly. Can we move on to the pointless Q&A now?"

Before replying, Max takes a moment to analyze AlterMax. The two of them look identical, obviously. AlterMax is wearing clothes that Max is pretty sure are in her closet or, more likely, a pile of rubble that was her closet. Her mannerisms are similar enough to Max's own, just slightly more… passive aggressive? Something like that. And she seems to be a little freer with her words.

Overall, none of it is much use. What that use would be, Max isn't actually sure, but maybe there could have been something to help her narrow down a alternate time or universe or something.

So, she just starts by stating, "You said _we_ aren't sick."

"Keen observation skills."

Max's urge to punch begins to rise again. " _We_ , as in you know that I'm not sick."

"And that's me using _my_ observation skills. We're both very good at observing. For example, you did a damn fine job of observing Arcadia being destroyed."

Max takes a deep breath. She's _not_ going to let AlterMax get under her skin this time. "You seem to have some pretty honed avoidance skills happening right now as well."

"You don't look sick," AlterMax says firmly, raising her eyebrows condescendingly. "That's all there is to it."

"I know this is a dream. Like, that much I _know_. When I'm sick in Real Life, I have dreams where I'm perfectly fine."

"It was a guess. Y'know, based on your appearance. Like I _just_ said."

"Right. So when you said that I was asleep in Chloe's truck, that was also a guess?"

"How do you know," AlterMax offers, "that I'm not future you? All time hopped back and shit."

Max raises an eyebrow. "The fuck do you have a picture of _a dream_?"

Not missing a beat, AlterMax counters, "The fuck do you know I need one?"

Silently, Max continues to stare at AlterMax. Like she'll break under the pressure of her own glare.

"Have you ever tried to rewind back into a dream? Maybe you just don't know you can do it."

"How would that even…" Max shakes her head. "That makes no logical sense."

AlterMax starts to laugh again, which is just as unsettling as it was the night before. "What about our lives- hah, oh my god you're so… what about our lives actually _has_ been logical, lately?

Again, Max is silent. Not at all for the same reason as before.

" _What has actually made sense since you watched your best friend start to bleed out on a dingy bathroom floor_?"

Max's jaw clenches up.

"Has anything… _anything_ been logical since the moment you stuck your hand out and watched the world reverse like a fucking VHS?"

Max's fists clench up.

"Everything has just been one random coincidence after one intentional manipulation after one, two, three dead "friends" after another.

Max can only breathe in short, shallow breaths.

"Just one highly- _Priced_ cheated destiny after another."

The smug grin on AlterMax's face is just too much, and Max barely chokes out, "You're me."

"Well, no fucking shit."

"No _,_ you're me. _Me._ Not some rewound Max, not some messed up alternate universe Max, just this Max. Me Max."

"Me, Max. You, Max," AlterMax grunts.

"Shut up! Just… shut up, for longer than two seconds."

The loud exclamation actually throws AlterMax for a moment, and she tilts her head to consider Max for a moment before falling back into routine. "Somebody went to sleep on the wrong side of the bed tonight."

"Just. Shut. Up." Max says. Not loudly this time, but sternly. AlterMax actually does stop talking this time. "Y-you _are_ me. Almost… almost everything you've… all th-the insults and accusations. I've. I've thought. I've tried not to- to think about. Because I did the ri- I did what I h-had to."

AlterMax sits up straight. "You, uh, sorry. You did what now? Didn't catch it."

"Wh-what I had to."

"No. Nope, not that." AlterMax shakes a finger at Max. "The first one. You did which thing?"

"Why are you doing this?"

"Yeah, that's not… what thing did you do?"

"But.. you're _me_."

"Does it maybe start with an 'R'?"

"Why am _I_ doing this?"

"Max. Maxine." AlterMax's voice is starting to get far too patronizing. "You're not answering questions again. Maybe because the answer starts with a 'W'?"

"So what are you then? If you're me."

"Or… the whole world hasn't become a grey area now, has it? Where nothing is really all that right or wrong? Or just where you don't have to admit whether anything is right or wrong."

" _What are you?_ " Are you supposed to be my fucking conscience or something?"

"Fuck no!" The question seems to offend her so much that AlterMax finally stops monologuing over Max's questions. "Jesus, I wouldn't want that job." AlterMax leans back and puffs out a breath. "Hoo-boy, would I have my work cut out for me. No, that would be way too much effort. And y'know, Max? I gotta ask, have you just started ignoring her or did she ditch you? I mean, it's not like she's been stopping you from making terrible decisions. I can't blame her, I woulda peaced the fuck out the moment you _considered_ helping Chloe overdose. Probably earlier."

Everything seems a bit wobbly, and Max slams her eyes shut. "You're just my brain in overdrive. That's it."

"Hey, no offence meant by that. I'm just saying. Rough job. I'm sure Conscience Max is still chillin' on your shoulder, or… doing whatever consciences do these day. It's your choice to tune her out. So it's whatever. More fuel for me. And again, the overdrive thing? That sounds like a lot of effort. Nah, I'm just basic ol' Subconscious Max. Like you just said, you try not to do that thinking thing during the day, so it's up to me to _make_ you do it. Therefore…" AlterMax gestures at the empty room surrounding them. "I get to hang out with you here. Make you feel like trash."

Max keeps her eyes closed.

"The diner was a lot nicer, though. Could we maybe chill there again, tomorrow? It's your choice, y'know. You being the one doing the all the dreaming and shit. You've been pretty fucking dreary so far. For uh, somebody who did the right thing. Shouldn't there be like, fucking rainbows and unicorns, and… butterflies, maybe? Rather than, eh, dark rooms?"

"whyareyoudoingthiswhyareyoudoingthiswhyareyoudoingthiswhyareyou…" Max starts quietly repeating to herself.

"Me? Nah. You were right earlier. Why are," AlterMax nods her head towards Max, " _you_ doing this?"

"You didn't have to make any of those decisions!" Max yells, standing up suddenly and tipping her chair. "You haven't made any of those decisions! You won't have to make any of those decisions! What right do you have judge me?"

"You are getting this _so_ wrong it's almost fucking funny at this point," AlterMax says with a smile. "All I'm here to do is to say what you're refusing to think. Really, I'm just here to help you judge yourself, Judgey McFuckingJudgester." She stops and points at Max, adding in a quick whisper, "Oh, and I did make those choices, technically. As we've now established that I'm part of you."

As she's been doing for most of this conversation, Max ignores AlterMax and starts asking questions out loud. "I… I've always doubted myself. Questioned myself. So why are you here _now_?"

AlterMax slumps forward and rests her elbows on her thighs. "I suspect it's because you've never murdered a fuckton of people before?" She raises her shoulders and upturns a palm in a questioning manner.

"I _didn't_ -"

"You're so touchy." She drops her hand and shakes her head. "God. Okay, so it's probably because you've never committed multiple acts of manslaughter before. Better?"

"You misera-"

—

Chloe leans over towards Max, who's mumbling in her sleep. It's actually pretty adorable, but Max had made her promise to make sure they were both awake and ready to hit the road by, uh… fifteen minutes ago. Whoops.

As cute as Mumbling Max might be, Chloe figures she should probably follow directions and she starts to gently shake Max awake. "Yo, Mad Max! Time to-

"-serable bitch!"

"Woah!" Chloe scootches back to her side of the truck. "Literal Mad Max. Yikes." Chloe starts rattling off an apology. "I, uh, I didn't really actually wanna wake you up but you said that we should…"

Max is still in the in the middle of waking up as Chloe rambles on, and it takes a minute to process what's happening. "Wha? No. Nonono." She shuffles across the seat until her head is resting in Chloe's lap. "Not you, Chloe. Never you. I was…"

"Sucky dream? Wanna talk about it while we braid each other's hair?"

Shaking her head, Max curls into herself ever so slightly.

"Aw man. Maxaroni. What's up? S'just a dream, right?" Chloe leans over Max until they're staring at each other upside down. "Seriously, what's goin' on? You, uh," Chloe pauses, and Max knows that she's checking for blood. "You okay? And I don't mean bullshit okay, I'm talking _actual_ okay, here."

Max makes a noncommittal noise which, thankfully, seems to be enough for Chloe.

"So, you wanna roll now?"

"Just… five minutes?" Max asks, after taking a exhaling deeply.

"Yeah… yeah, sure. Dude, I'm just the lackey!" Chloe shrugs, and then wraps a protective arm around Max. " _You're_ the one calling the shots right now."

Chloe's brow furrows in confusion when Max responds with a dark chuckle.

Because _that?_ That is _exactly_ the problem.

* * *

 _there's an albatross around your neck, all the things you've said, all the things you've done_  
 _can you carry it with no regrets?_

* * *

aw and max was trying so hard to do the stoic thing

...

Yeah okay I'm doing the lyric thing I said that I wasn't gonna do. It's like I can't stop myself. (hype for the eventual trashy monstercat remix?)

Normally I'm an update once a week kinda person, but I'm breaking that rule with this chapter. And also now not promising the once a week thing. We'll all survive.

*there's absolutely nothing wrong with coldplay don't yell at me


	3. Night Three

After a gentle reminder from Chloe that "Yo, Maximus, you do know that plastic means more than paper, right?", she remembers what decade she's in, and that money that isn't paper exists. They skip the truck and find a hotel for the night.

It's not a very impressive motel (do impressive motels exist?) but that doesn't matter because _fuck herself, she's not trying to impress anybody._

There _is_ a bed, though, and it's hella nicer than the seat of Chloe's truck. It's actually a bit of a problem, because Max doesn't actually want to sleep. Which is another problem all in itself, but she doesn't want to think about that even more than she doesn't want to sleep.

After a shower ( _thank god_ ), Max can't resist the allure of the stained mattress and settles in under the stiff blankets. She finds a remote in a drawer next to the bed and flicks the TV on. Her channel surfing ends prematurely when she realizes that there's only three channels to pick from. Four, if she counts channel number forty-six, which is pure static.

Chloe plops down beside her as she decides on the infomercial channel. She doesn't want to watch the news, and apparent marathon of _The Price is Right_ does not appeal to her at all.

Max startles slightly when Chloe leans into her, head tucked against Max's side. For some reason, Max doesn't know what to do with her arm. It works out when Chloe takes it upon herself to arrange it for Max, draping Max's arm around her.

"Goodnight, sleep tight, don't let the bedbugs bite?" Chloe mumbles into Max's side.

Max looks down at Chloe, up at the TV, and then back down to Chloe. "Yeah…" she says, "Good night's sleep in a lumpy bed'll be nice." Chloe chuckles, Max snickers once, and then properly says good night.

Not long after, Chloe is lightly snoring. Max looks at the TV again, making her mind up. She grabs the remote, mutes the TV, and turns on the dodgy subtitles.

Around four AM, she sorta wants to buy a bacon wave.

—

Chloe, of course, _does_ notice that Max hasn't slept a wink.

She's not that oblivious.

Chloe doesn't say anything though, because she doesn't know what to say. She hasn't known what to say about much of anything, for fear of… breaking Max?

Uh, not that Max _is_ broken, of course, but. Something's going on. Which yeah, duh, obviously something is going on after everything that happened. But it feels like there's something going on that Chloe doesn't know about at all. Probably has something to do with that whole thing where she woke up swearing at Chloe, pretending to be okay, and then that _weird_ laugh.

Even then, Chloe didn't say anything. Nothing substantial, at least. She did pause before starting the truck up to ask Max one more time if she was alright.

"It was just a dream, Chloe," Max had said, a little too forcefully to convince Chloe that she was being sincere. "It was just a dream. What's it gonna do? Punch me in the face?"

Chloe had found the analogy a little strange, and she couldn't stop her eyes from flicking down to the tiny drops of blood that she had noticed (and said nothing about) on Max's shirt collar. She was frowning when Max firmly told her one more time that it was just a dream.

And then Chloe said nothing. Just a quiet "mhm" before turning the keys and stepping on the gas.

To be fair, Max hasn't said anything either. But the saying of things in that particular situation should be Chloe's job. Probably? Yeah.

Thing is, that overall? Max hasn't really been saying much of anything. Everything's mostly been borderline awkward small talk, slightly forced banter, and occasional moments of vulnerability. It's freaky.

The biggest problem with that is that Chloe, well, Chloe sort of wants to talk. About _things._ For probably the first time in five years.

Chloe wants to talk, Max is in do not disturb mode. Chloe is, admittedly, a _little_ fucked up about the situation (okay, maybe more than a little), and Max is obviously a lot fucked up about the situation.

Fuck it. Chloe'll actually say that she needs to talk about what's going on, she _needs_ to, but maybe that that's the opposite of what Max needs?

So Chloe says nothing about _things_ , and it's getting harder and harder to keep putting on her goofy yet badass persona.

Another part of the problem with the lack of words is that Chloe has no idea what the plan is. Chloe has no idea if there actually is a plan. All Chloe knows is that Max asked if they could drive towards "Seattle".

Just Seattle.

Nothing more, nothing less.

Chloe hasn't asked for details, because _she doesn't know what to fucking say._ Instead, she decides to take an exceptionally scenic route. Chloe doesn't know for sure if Max has noticed or not, because she doesn't know if it's anything that Max would mention, in her current state of quiet.

And it's not just Chloe who Max isn't saying much to. She's not so much as listened to the voicemails on her phone. Not that her phone has been going crazy with activity because, well, dead people don't use phones, but Max's parents have called a few times. Left a few messages.

Chloe hasn't touched her phone either, but the thing is, the thing is that she knows. They had driven through Arcadia, after all, and _she knows_.

So, she hasn't touched her phone because she has nobody left to call.

Max _does_ though. The worst thing about it, in Chloe's opinion, is that Max's parents probably _know_ as well. 'Cept they don't. Well, they know, they just don't know the right thing. They don't _know_ know. Or something.

So, Max's parents don't _know_ know, Max doesn't seem to want to let them _know_ know, and Max has not in so many words said that she wants to see them.

Seattle might be a vague term for Max's house? Fuck if Chloe knows.

Basically, Max isn't really using her words properly right now and Chloe's been too chickenshit to try and change that.

After finishing with another glorious shower, Chloe then carries on continuing with the chickenshitery, sitting down on the bed and pulling Max to lean against her. Max seems to automatically cuddle into her, which makes Chloe smile for a brief moment. Then she settles in to watch Max inexplicably watch the same set of infomercials loop until they have to pack their figurative bags and check out of the motel before they get charged for another night.

And maybe Chloe just watches too much TV, and maybe the shock of everything hasn't worn off yet, and maybe she's just got too much going on in her brain that she hasn't allowed herself to let out, but she's a little scared that Max wants to go all _Person of Interest_ on the world.

It's funny, really.

A few weeks ago Chloe felt like she was suffocating, and would have killed to elaborately fake her death, run away from her old life.

Now she's very much alive and kinda worried that she might be doing that very thing.

* * *

 _now we're here again, with a wish to mend your agonizing scar_

* * *

See also: No Children by The Mountain Goats, Fake Your Death (and I'll Fake Mine) by Whitehorse

ok so night three and morning four is a more accurate title but it'd fuck with what i got going on

Soooo, this was kinda meant to transition into night four, just a quick mention of the lack of night three. But then Chloe's ten or so sentences I had planned turned into... this.

Whatever. Here's a quote from Matthew Good to end this impressively short author's note:

"Life just happens like it's a paint by numbers and you only have one colour."


End file.
